


the scripted parallel

by slybrunette



Category: Battlestar Galactica (2003), Big Bang Theory
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-07
Updated: 2010-01-07
Packaged: 2017-10-20 06:13:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 761
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/209625
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/slybrunette/pseuds/slybrunette
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>the eggnog that was really rum, and the confusion and worry -- disguised as depression -- that brought on the drinking were real. the cover story wasn’t. (au version of tbbt's 'the bath item gift hypothesis', originally written for the bsg porn battle @ LJ).</p>
            </blockquote>





	the scripted parallel

She made it up, you know.

The eggnog that was really rum and confusion and worry, disguised as depression, that brought on the drinking were real. The cover story wasn’t.

As far as she knows -- not that she actually checked -- there were no nude photos of his wife on his phone; that was the plot of a pilot she once auditioned for. He might’ve said he had a wife but then again he also said lots of other things that struck her as far more important than whether or not he was married.

Like he was from space.

 _Yeah_ , that was the part that concerned her.

See, this is what really happened:

“Wait a minute,” she stops, breaks away from him. Dave groans at the loss of contact. Penny’s both slightly drunk and mostly distracted, so she doesn’t really care so much about how he’s feeling right now. “You’re no physicist.”

A moment before this her mouth was warm and open around his cock, and now it isn’t, which might explain the relative displeasure that seeps into his voice as he says, “What?”

She waves a finger in his general direction, which is supposed to seem firm and insistent except she’s on her knees and bare-breasted and her words are slurred. “You’re no physicist.”

“Penny,” he says, and a look passes over his face that is no longer simple annoyance. He looks nervous. She hasn’t seen that side of him yet. “Penny, I can’t – let’s not,” he stumbles, then finally settles on, “how did you know?”

(The breakdown in communication is this:

What Penny’s trying to say is he’s like no physicist she’s ever met, with the motorcycle riding and the outdoorsiness, and the general lack of awkwardness in social situations, and so she’s having doubts as to the legitimacy of his degree or whatever; he can’t be that smart and that skilled socially _and_ that good-looking. At least not while she’s drunk.

What Dave – whose name, by the way, is actually Samuel Anders – thinks she’s trying to say is that she doesn’t believe his story about being a physicist and is somehow onto the fact that it’s all a ruse and that he isn’t from California. Or, you know, this planet. This is where being perpetually paranoid that you’re going to be found out gets you.)

“You can’t say anything to anyone.”

She screws up her face and asks, “Say anything about what?”

His voice lowers, “That you know.”

“That I know what?”

“Where I’m from. Who I am.”

“Where are you from?”

The conversation follows a similar pattern for a long while, with Dave accidentally divulging a little more information each time and with Penny becoming increasingly more confused with the situation.

It all leads to: “So…wait…” she frowns, “you’re saying you’re from space?” Her laughter is hysterical when he nods and she almost collapses on the bed. “God, how drunk do you think I am?”

“I don’t know.”

She sobers, for the briefest flash of a moment, takes stock of his expression and his tone. “You’re serious?”

“I’m serious.”

“And you’re not like a glorified astronaut?” There’s more laughter while he’s shaking his head. “I know I’ve heard this story before.”

“It’s not a story Penny,” Dave tells her. He makes a grab for her hands, and it’s the first time in several minutes that she remembers that they’re naked and were in the middle of something.

She considers the pros and cons of continuing that something. She decides that she’s done worse.

“Okay space cowboy,” she says, which might possibly be a reference to something – she can’t remember, “maybe you can tell me why I’m still wearing clothes.”

He doesn’t stop to raise an eyebrow or ask questions. He pulls her to him and soon her underwear joins the pile of clothes on the floor. Dave moves against her, their skin soon made sweat slick, and she enjoys the play of his muscles under her fingers straight up until he pushes into her. Then she enjoys that for awhile.

It’s not like that was the first time she slept with him anyway; she wasn’t doing anything she hadn’t already done.

Afterwards he leaves and she sleeps off the alcohol. When she wakes up, she plays on Wikipedia for awhile and discovers that he basically just told her the plot of Battlestar Galactica, except she’d been too out of it to recognize it.

And so there was the not-eggnog and strong feelings of doubt in his story and her judgment.

She never sees Dave Underhill ever again.


End file.
